


Hawkeye and I

by iloveitblue



Series: Prompts [230]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Phil punches Hawkeye, but its just one punch, so violence?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-03-31 20:52:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3992482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveitblue/pseuds/iloveitblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Phil is in love with Clint, and then he meets Hawkeye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hawkeye and I

**Author's Note:**

> I based this off of several TV shows I've seen. Split personalities.

It’s perfect.

It’s better than perfect. 

Clint knows because he’s already imagined this moment a million times in a million different ways. And this, this moment in front of him, it’s perfect. There’s no blood anywhere, no life threatening situations, no mission that needs to be completed. It’s just him and Phil.

Him and Perfect, wonderful Phil. The same Phil he’s loved for a lot longer than Clint cares to remember. The same Phil that held his hand through every bump in the road since he joined SHIELD. The very same Phil that he thought would never like him the same way Clint liked him. Then again, Phil always did like to disprove anything Clint thought about him.

Phil is standing there in front of him, suit and all, a bouquet of plastic purple arrows with a white rose in the middle in one hand. Phil walks up to him and smiles shyly. “These are- These are for you. I thought you might like them. He hands Clint the bouquet and he shrugs once, looking nervous. “I- uh- Pepper told me to tell you in the most creative way I can so that I don’t chicken out and… uh I’m not the creative type, obviously. As much as possible I like thinking inside the box. Resourceful, maybe, but creative, no.” Phil babbles, endearing Clint even more, if that was even possible.

“What I’m trying to say is, Clint, would you like to go on a date with me?” Phil asks, eyes hopeful and open. 

Everything feels surreal and Clint thinks that if he blinks, all of this would this would disappear. He’s getting ready to say ‘Yes! Absolutely! A thousand times yes!’ but before he could actually say anything, Clint’s mind reels. He freezes up and he stands there looking scared out of his wits.

Clint slowly shakes his head and whispers a “No.” before handing Phil the bouquet back and walking away. 

If he stayed for just a second longer, he would have seen the way Phil’s face falls at the rejection. He would have seen Phil walk to the nearest trash can look at the bouquet sadly before throwing it in the bin.

—

“He likes me.” Clint says with conviction.

“No he doesn’t. You really think after knowing you for so long that he’d be interested? He’s pulling you by the string. You and I know this. It’s best he doesn’t come closer to you.”

Clint looks at his hands, fingers interlaced, and he nods. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am. and just to make sure this doesn’t happen again, you’ll do what I tell you to.”

“Yeah, okay.”

—

Phil’s fist lingers in the air mid-knock. He probably shouldn’t be here. Clint probably doesn’t even want to talk to him. But they need to. 

The past week had been unsettling, to say the least. Like there’s something not right.

‘Of course there is, you confessed your feelings to your asset and now he feels awkward around you.’ Part of Phil’s brain tells him.

Another part of Phil’s brain says, ‘Clint’s not like that. He wouldn’t let my fuck up affect his career. He’s a professional.’

And Phil agrees. Clint isn’t the kind of guy that lets his feelings show on the field. He’s still doing his job perfectly and whether or not his attitude towards Coulson changed won’t be a factor. But the feeling that something isn’t right still eats at Coulson. It’s understandable, but Clint’s changed somehow. The others might not see it, but Phil does. 

Clint’s been distant (again, understandable) but it’s not only towards Coulson. He’s been distant with his friends as well. He still goes out drinking with them like he always does, but he doesn’t acknowledge them in the halls anymore. He hands in his reports promptly and on time. and the weirdest thing? He eats the olives in his salad.

Okay, so maybe that isn’t much to go on, but Phil’s been Clint’s friend for a while now, okay? And Phil distinctly remembers Clint say that olives are little fuckers that he refuses to subject his tongue to. It wouldn’t be like Clint to just up and change his opinion of ‘those little fuckers’.

Phil raps on the door and steps back, waiting. When the door doesn’t open, he tries again. “Clint?”

He hears shuffling on the other side of the door before it swings open. “What? I’m trying to sleep” Clint asks irritably.

“I was just- We need to talk.” Phil says, a little taken aback at the archer’s tone of voice. It feels different somehow.

“So talk.” Clint leans his shoulder on the door frame, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I’d rather we talk inside, if we could?” Clint rolls his eyes and he sighs before letting Phil in. 

Clint is usually a very tidy person when it comes to his quarters. Phil’s been inside a couple of times before. And the room that Phil is standing in now, definitely does not look like Clint’s. 

“So. Are you going to talk or not? Because I’d really rather sleep.” Clint asks.

Phil shakes his head. This is wrong. Everything looks and feels wrong. This wasn’t Clint’s room. This is someone else’s room.

“You’re not Clint.” Phil whispers.

‘Clint’ falters for a second before he grins maliciously. “No, I’m not.” ‘Clint’ walks over to the bed and sits, mostly looking bored.

“I want to talk to Clint.”

‘Clint’ makes a tsk sound. “Can’t let you do that. We already think you’re a threat.”

“What? Why? I wouldn’t harm Clint. I’d never hurt him.”

‘Clint’ shrugs. “That’s what they all say.” He stands again and this time, he circles Phil, like a predator does its prey. “And then they realize he’s not alone. He can’t be alone. He doesn’t want to be alone. They leave him, broken again. Just when he was starting to feel whole.” He snorts “Who do you think is left to pick up his broken pieces? I’ll give you a hint. It’s me.”

“And who exactly are you?”

‘Clint’ barks a laugh. “C’mon Phil. I thought you’d have figured it out by now.”

“I did. I just want to know who I’m talking to.”

‘Clint’ raises his hands, presenting himself. “World’s greatest marksman, at your service.” He takes a bow and grins when realization falls on Phil.

“Hawkeye.”

“Give the man a prize.” Hawkeye snorts bitterly. “It’s not you, Phil. It’s me.” He raises his finger for a second, as if to clarify something. “And when I say me, I mean me. He isn’t involved. He doesn’t think you’re toxic like I do. I don’t even know what he sees in you if I’m being honest. I mean, yeah. you’re good at your job, but other than that, I don’t see it.” Hawkeye sighs tiredly. “Between you and me, I think he’s getting too soft. It’s come to a point where I’m tempted to actually kill him. He’s becoming too heavy a baggage, the useless son of-”

Phil doesn’t let him finish. He tackles Hawkeye and pins him by the throat against the closest wall. He unholsters his gun and points it at Hawkeye’s head. “One more word about Clint, and I shoot.”

Hawkeye squirms under his arm and laughs. “You really think I’ll believe you? That you’ll shoot pretty little Clint’s brains out?”

“I don’t care who you are. Nobody talks bad about Clint. He’s amazing, and if you can’t see that, then you’re just as bad as the people who hurt him before.” Phil presses his arm further into Hawkeye’s throat before he releases him, holstering his gun back. He turns so that he isn’t facing Hawkeye. “I’m not going to shoot you.” Hawkeye touches his neck, rubbing at the pain. Phil swivels on his toes and gives Hawkeye a punch to the cheek that manages to make him fall to the floor. “But I won’t let it stand either.”

Hawkeye chuckles, licking the blood from his split lip. “I’ve got to hand it to you. You got a mean swing. I think I’m okay with leaving to you. But if you make him cry, I’m coming back. And I promise you, I have a meaner swing.”

Phil only has time to frown at what Hawkeye said before he passes out.

—

Clint hisses when he feels how sore his face is. When he tries to get up, hands are suddenly helping him up. “Careful.” Phil says to him.

“Did you- Did you punch me?”

“I met Hawkeye.” Phil says as if that explained everything.

Clint nods. “Okay, understandable. He’s a bit of an asshole.”

Phil snorts in response. He hands Clint an ice pack, and helps him hold it to his cheek. “Understatement.”

“Did you talk? Or did you go straight for the punching?”

“He said some things. I said some things. I punched him. He said some things.” Phil shrugs like he punches people’s alternate selves on a daily basis.

“Like what?”

“I think- He uh- I think he gave us his blessing.” Phil smiles softly at Clint. 

Clint’s breath hitches and he smiles back, right before he leans in to kiss Phil softly on the lips. A first of many.

**Author's Note:**

> [Here on tumblr](http://promptmephlint.tumblr.com/post/119681622821/id-like-to-say-im-not-thinking-about-anything)


End file.
